Dancing Away with My Heart
by ExceedinglyPeculiarChick
Summary: Because Annabeth is in your arms again, and everything is okay. / Percabeth reunion fic. Happy birthday, MostDefinitelyFlorentine!
1. Seaweed Brain

Gold.

Just a glimmer of it, between the heads of the crowd, but you automatically know—somehow—that it's her hair.

Automatically, you tense, causing Frank and Hazel to glance at you sideways, like they're nervous about what you're going to do.

"What's the matter, Percy?" asks Hazel quietly, reaching up to squeeze your hand that's slung over her shoulder.

Ten thousand emotions are rolling around inside your head, and everything you see is unnaturally bright, but you manage to ground out, "Nervous."

Frank rolls his eyes and looks at you incredulously. "By the gods, Percy. Why are you nervous? You're going to see your girlfriend again!"

"What if she found someone else?" you ask in a small voice, keeping your gaze fixed resolutely on your shoes as you voice the fear that's been nagging away at your thoughts. "What if she doesn't love me anymore?"

"Doubt it," says Hazel easily. Her voice is so sure, you just want to believe her; the fear doesn't leave, though. It's just pushed away to the back of your head.

So you try to focus on her as you scan the crowd. Gray eyes—ever-changing, just like yours—steely and cold or soft and inviting. Blonde curls, pulled back into a ponytail so messy it shouldn't really count as one. The way she bit her nails when she was nervous, and stole your sweatshirts and camp shirts and called you Seaweed Brain and kissed you when you did something stupid.

"Percy?"

You wheel around, and suddenly that face is right in front of you, exactly the way you just pictured it.

Gray eyes.

Blonde curls.

An old gray sweatshirt you used to wear to school, thrown on over jean shorts.

She's chewing nervously on her fingernails, staring at you in a mix of horror and disbelief, and some small part of your brain that's still got some semblance of rational thought remembers that you're basically wearing your bedsheets. How unfamiliar you must seem to her.

Holding out both palms in a peace gesture, you take a step toward her.

And then another.

Mentally cursing whoever made the toga so difficult to move in, you position yourself right in front of her, reach out, and slowly, gently, pull her hand away from her mouth.

"Annabeth." You say it like a statement, not a question, and her face suddenly changes: eyes widen, face pales, breathing hitches. She knows you remember.

"I thought I told you," you say in a low voice, "not to bite your nails."

And then she's got her face buried in your chest, her fist is pounding against your shoulder, and somewhere you're thinking _holy Poseidon, ow_, but you're too busy focusing holding her closer to you to make her stop—the feeling of her heart, the _life_ pounding against your body convinces you that this is not a dream and she's really real.

So when you lean in and mumble against her hair, "I love you, Wise Girl," and she finally looks up, you waste no time in kissing her as hard as you possibly can.

The crowd is muttering to each other, and you know someone's probably taking pictures, but you just _don't care_ because Annabeth is in your arms again and everything is _okay_.

—•—

A/N: Leaving for Florida! :D Holy CRAP, I'm so excited! Since I'll soon be sitting in a car for eight hours, this leaves me plenty of time to write fanfiction (and ride fish ponies and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!)

Anyhoo, this is an early birthday present for Natalie, a.k.a. MostDefinitelyFlorentine, who is one of my lovely best friends (SPICY!) Love you :)

I was listening to Lady Antebellum earlier, which was my inspiration for the title of this fic, because the chorus of the song reminded me of Percabeth (I haven't seen you in ages/Sometimes I find myself wondering where you are/To me you'll always be eighteen/And beautiful/And dancing away with my heart) and I was like "Hey! Let's write a reunion fic!" And so I did.

So… thoughts? Because I wrote this at three in the morning, and quite honestly, I don't know what the hell it is.

EPC 


	2. Wise Girl

**A/N: Well, today's August 10th, which means something very special: HAPPY BIRTHDAY to MostDefinitelyFlorentine! I wrote this into a two-shot at wombat-of-awesomeness's suggestion, because it's your legit birthday today and—oh my gods, call the locksmith.**

It also means that *ahem* Demigod Diaries is in FOUR FREAKING DAYS (FTW!)…anybody who feels like they need a mega fangirling session, feel free to PM me!

(Just an FYI: this is the same as the last chapter, but in Annabeth's point of view.)

EPC

—•—

Jason's words have become a garbled mess in your ears and you can't feel the coolness of Piper's cautionary hand on your arm anymore and Leo's nervous foot-tapping has long since stopped irritating you because there's only one thing you can focus on and it isn't any of them.

It's the green-eyed, black-haired boy next to the regal-looking girl with the dark hair (_why does she seem familiar?_you ask yourself), his arms slung around two other demigods—a boy with a hulky wrestler's build that doesn't quite match his baby face, and a girl with warm skin the color of chocolate and eyes a disconcerting shade of brilliant gold.

_Seaweed Brain_, the lovesick part of your mind whimpers.

_Focus, Annabeth_, says the small section of your brain that's managed to maintain a semblance of sanity over the last hellish eight months. _This is a diplomatic meeting, not somewhere for you to resolve your love life. Besides, he'll probably need his space. Wait._

The dark-haired girl nods as Jason finally finishes speaking, turns to the amassed Romans behind her, and raises her arms. "_Ave_, Jason Grace, our returned praetor—and the Greeks, our new allies in this war."

The legions of battle-ready warriors pound their shields against the ground in unison and echo the cry: "_Ave!_" Then they swarm forward to greet the newcomers.

You're pretty much lost in the crowd of legionnaires; the last thing you see of your crewmates is Leo sidling up to a Roman girl (no doubt in what will probably be a failed attempt to flirt with her). So you turn around to start looking for him and—

_Bam._

He's standing with his back to you, hunting over the heads of the crowd. Before you can stop yourself, you take a step forward and call, "Percy?"

He spins around, and you get a good look at what he's wearing: a deep purple officer's cape over—wait a minute, is that a _toga_? But even the ridiculousness of the outfit can't distract you from the object of your focus: his face.

The depth of emotion in his green eyes is surely mirrored in your gray ones—even more so when he takes two or three tentative steps toward you and says, "Annabeth."

_It's not a question. It's not a question. He knows. He remembers. He loves you._

"I thought I told you not to bite your nails."

Percy reaches up to pull the hand away from your face that you didn't even realize was there in the first place. As soon as his fingers connect with your skin, there's a jolt of electricity between the two of you.

You bury yourself in his waiting arms and never want to leave—you're with Percy again, and the world is soft and warm and real and _wonderful_.

"I love you, Wise Girl," he whispers into your hair, and you look up just in time to have his lips connect with yours.

And it's even better than the best underwater kiss of all time. 


End file.
